


In Good Paws

by artificiallifecreator, njw, Rider_of_Spades, salazarastark (niewanyin), strawberryjei, vellaphoria



Series: A Journey of Personal Discovery Through Social Isolation [12]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Brucequest, Even Batman can't stand in his way, Humor, Krypto Adopts Tim, Krypto is a good boy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Temporary Character Death, Tim Drake Gets a Hug, emotional support dog, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23118706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificiallifecreator/pseuds/artificiallifecreator, https://archiveofourown.org/users/njw/pseuds/njw, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rider_of_Spades/pseuds/Rider_of_Spades, https://archiveofourown.org/users/niewanyin/pseuds/salazarastark, https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryjei/pseuds/strawberryjei, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vellaphoria/pseuds/vellaphoria
Summary: “This was a great idea,” Tim mutters, relaxing into the hot bath with a soft sigh. His cuts aren’t stinging anymore and the water feels heavenly. He blinks, eyelids getting heavy, then spots the beer again. The amber bottle is beaded with condensation, and it looks invitingly cool.There’s a soft sound outside the bathroom window, followed by the unmistakable hum of Krypto’s heat vision and a short scream. Ah, ninja. The sounds of battle and mayhem continue unabated as he eyes the bottle again.What can it hurt?He reaches out and wraps his hand around the pleasantly cold bottle before bringing it to his lips. It’s bitter, biting and bubbly and cold enough to wake him up a little.The popping sound of gunfire nearby cuts off almost as soon as it begins, followed by silence and then more screaming and curses. He thinks he hears a faint, distant, “Oy, my soddin’nose—!”but can’t be sure. Tim tilts his head, weighing his options, then shrugs. Eh, he’s sure Krypto has the situation well in paw. Helovesplaying fetch with ninjas.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Krypto, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent
Series: A Journey of Personal Discovery Through Social Isolation [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1406953
Comments: 84
Kudos: 970





	In Good Paws

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bewaretheboojum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewaretheboojum/gifts).



> Happy late birthday, Boojum! We hope you enjoy this story and have as much fun reading it as we did writing it (we crammed in a few extra things we thought you'd enjoy). Hopefully it’s worth the wait! 
> 
> Quotes adapted from Red Robin #1, #3, #4, #9

There’s a light breeze and a clear blue sky as Tim walks away from the hospital, Dana’s tired smile and her doctor’s reassuring, hopeful words chasing each other around in his mind. The sun feels warm on his skin.

For a moment, he wishes he was back in Gotham, where the ever-present gloomy skies and ocean chill would better fit his current mood. Then he shakes it off. Gotham’s too full of ghosts. His dad, Steph, the others—there’s no way that’s a good place for him right now. Anyway, Dana needs him, and she’s here.

Glancing at the taxi idling in front of the mental hospital, he considers for a moment, then shakes his head. All that’s waiting for him back at the apartment is Dick, with his worried eyes and constant attempts to talk. He doesn’t feel up for that these days. Trudging along, he kicks at some litter on the sidewalk as he ponders his situation. The aching loneliness of loss swells as memories of the people he’ll never see again flit through his mind. It’s the thought of Kon’s grin that brings a lump to his throat, though.

_I never even told him…_

Tim shakes his head, blinking back the sting of tears. It’s better not to think about that. It’s too late now, anyway. Whatever his feelings for his best friend might have been, it doesn’t matter anymore. And admitting that those feelings might have been stronger than just friendship would be opening the door for even more pain, so he’s going to leave that door firmly closed.

Although… His mind drifts back to some of the possible plans he’s been toying with. Cloning seems like a possibility with some real potential…

Just as he’s about to turn the corner, he senses something approaching from above. Bracing himself, he’s completely taken by surprise when instead of being attacked, he finds himself with an unexpected armful of happy, wiggling— _dog?_

“Huh?” Tim blinks, arms automatically tightening around the large white dog who just literally dropped out of the sky and crashed into him. “Uh, _Krypto?”_ Even if he didn’t recognize Krypto himself, the S-shield collar and little red cape are unmistakable. Not to mention the power of flight, that’s a pretty telling clue. But that doesn’t explain his presence in Blüdhaven, of all places. “What are you doing here, boy?”

As far as he knows, Krypto’s been missing ever since—his mind skitters away from thinking about the tower, and Superboy Prime, and what happened there. What he _lost._ Only… Krypto had bitten Superboy Prime trying to defend Kon, didn’t he? And then the villain had punched the dog, sending him out of the fight that ultimately took Kon’s life. Has he been suffering somewhere, slowly healing, wondering where his favorite human is?

Tim softens. “Oh, Krypto, you’re hurting too, aren’t you, buddy?”

A quiet whine answers him, and he leans forward to bury his face in the dog’s soft, warm fur. Krypto lifts his head, swiping his wet tongue from Tim’s chin to his forehead and sending him sputtering back in shock.

_Gross._

“Oh my god, Kon was _right_ about your breath, geez!” Tim finds himself grinning and laughing softly, and pauses at the realization. His mouth hangs open as Krypto looks at him expectantly, tongue hanging out in a doggy grin of his own.

This is the first time he’s laughed, _really_ laughed, since…

Well, he doesn’t actually remember the last time he felt like this. Tim gently sets Krypto down on the ground, keeping a hand loosely on his shoulder, and thinks about his situation again. He remembers Dick, always worried, and trying so hard to help and be there for him. Of Dana, adrift and needing an anchor so badly now that his dad is gone. His tentative plans to clone Kon melt away as he realizes that even if he succeeded, on some level, it wouldn’t be _Kon._ Not the same guy who cared for Krypto and was loved by him. Not the same guy who Tim—

His thoughts skitter away from that dangerous path. _Nope, not going there._

Anyway, the cloning idea was _maybe_ a little on the crazy side. Just a bit. Tim shakes his head, feeling like he can breathe again for the first time in what might be weeks. He thinks of Dana’s method of dealing with tragedy by shutting down. Then Batman’s, of emotional repression. Looking at Krypto’s trusting expression and playfully perked ears as the dog watches him, he remembers his dad and the way he never closed himself to the joys in life, even after everything he’d been through.

Maybe that’s what he should be aiming for here. He can get himself going in a healthier direction. He owes it to the people who are about him to at least try. Tim smiles, moving his hand to gently rub behind Krypto’s ears. “Thanks, buddy. I don’t know what you came here for, but I think I kind of needed to see you right now. I’m feeling better, though. You can go home now. I’m sure Clark is still looking for you.”

Tim watches, brows rising as, instead of taking off into the sky, Krypto flops down onto his feet. He doesn’t look like he’s planning on leaving any time soon. “You know I’m a cat person, right?”

Krypto just yips, then stares at him expectantly like he’s meant to understand that. He has the weirdest sense the dog’s thinking, _no, you are my person._

Well, okay then. Tim’s _pretty_ sure he can convince Dick they should have a dog. His big brother’s a total pushover. It’s not going to be as easy to convince Bruce, though, if Krypto’s still hanging around when he heads back to Gotham.

Shrugging, Tim nudges the dog with his toe. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. You can stick around for a while.”

The dog springs to his feet, entire body wiggling with how forcefully his tail is wagging. Tim can’t help but grin at the sight. Although… “Uh, I don’t think you should be walking around Blüdhaven as Superdog. Can you…?”

Nodding, Krypto bends his head at the neck to nibble at his collar, which immediately retracts the cape and S-shield, changing into a nondescript dog collar with the name ‘Skip’ printed on it. As a final touch, a fine mist sprays from the back of the collar, depositing a large brown spot on Krypto’s back. Well, okay then. Civilian identity, check.

“C’mon, buddy,” he says, patting the dog’s ears again. “Let’s go home.”

As they walk companionably back toward Dick’s apartment, Tim’s smiling.

* * *

Dick pauses in the doorway of his apartment for a long moment, taking in the darkness and silence. His shoulders slump. It’s not like he was really expecting to come home to a miraculously chipper, happy Tim watching his favorite shows or listening to music and hacking the Pentagon or whatever, but…

Okay, yeah, he was sort of hoping. Watching his little brother grieve hurts, and he just wishes he knew how to put a smile on his face again.

He shuts the door behind himself with a sigh and heads over to the kitchen to deposit the load of groceries he’s carrying on the counter. They’ll keep for a few minutes while he goes to check on Tim. Walking down the hall, he listens carefully for any sound behind the closed guest room door and is disappointed but not surprised when he can’t hear anything. He wants to imagine Tim might be out skateboarding or otherwise having fun, but it’s probably too much to hope for.

_Hopefully he’s reading or taking a nap, and not just brooding in there._

Well, if Tim’s brooding, then he’ll just have to do his best to try to cheer him up. Even if sometimes it feels like his efforts aren’t even making a dent. This kind of thing just takes time. Dick squares his shoulders and opens the door, then freezes, eyes widening at what he sees.

There’s a huge white dog sprawled out on Tim’s bed.

_What the heck?_

For a brief moment, thoughts of magic spells and animal transformations flash through his stunned mind. He’s already working on half a plan to call Zatanna and try to get Tim transformed back into a human when he spots something on the pillow, half-covered by the blankets and the bulk of the dog.

After a long moment of staring in disbelief, Dick manages to identify the shock of black hair under the dog as Tim.

“Tim? Where did you get a dog?”

Blüd isn’t Gotham, but even in Blüd it would be hard to find a happy, well-cared-for dog on the streets. This one is a little worse for wear—it most likely escaped a house out in the suburbs or something. Dick starts mentally pulling together the materials needed to temporarily house a largeish dog. Is the dog house trained? Were the owners contacted? The dog is wearing a collar, so Tim probably already gave them a call.

The lump on the bed grows limbs as Tim stretches. “Hey Dick,” Tim yawns, “meet Skip. I thought being chosen by animals was a cat thing, but then he followed me home and wouldn’t leave.”

Tim’s movements cause Skip to wake up. Skip turns to face Dick, immediately flopping over to expose his belly, and lets his tongue loll out in the world’s most disarming doggy smile.

He sucks in a breath as he realizes he recognizes this dog. The idea of temporarily housing Skip is thrown out the window. That… is definitely not just a random stray. Dick raises a brow.

“Tim?”

“Mhmm?”

“Why is Krypto in my apartment asking for belly rubs?” Dick obediently gives Krypto a belly rub.

“That’s a good question. I’d answer if I knew how to translate Dog to English.”

Dick answers Tim’s mischievous grin with one of his own. “You are going to answer to the best of your ability, so help me Alfred, or I will resort to tickling the answer out of you.”

As he watches his little brother smiling at the dog, expression happy and animated in a way he hasn’t seen in what feels like forever, Dick realizes it doesn’t really matter. Anything that can cheer Tim up this much is a good thing in his book.

* * *

“Bruce, no.”

Bruce doesn’t respond, though his gaze seems to say ‘Bruce, yes.’ It’s almost a requirement for Robins to learn how to interpret the Resting Bruce Face and its many subtle undertones. Right now, Tim can read that Bruce is slightly ashamed, but believes that he is doing the right thing.

“Don’t,” he says, even though he already knows it isn’t going to make a difference. He crouches down on the Batcave floor and buries his fingers in Krypto’s surprisingly soft white fur, swallowing hard. Krypto whines softly, looking back and forth between them as though he can tell something is wrong.

The only signs that Bruce is feeling at all conflicted about his chosen course of action are a faint tightness around his eyes and the minute pause before he activates his communicator. “Superman. We’ve found your dog.”

Tim turns his face away to hide his expression, not that it matters. There’s no way Bruce doesn’t see the way his hand is trembling slightly as he pets Krypto, who is now looking up at him with a concerned expression, pointed ears perked up. “Good boy, Krypto. You’re a good boy.”

He really is. There’s no other dog in the world who would have realized Robin was in danger when he ran into some extremely well-armed thugs on his patrol. Heck, there’s _definitely_ no other dog who could have flown through the air to dramatically rescue him using heat vision.

It just sucks that Batman showed up right as Krypto finished melting the thugs’ weapons so Robin could subdue them.

_I should probably consider myself lucky this didn’t happen earlier. I bet Krypto’s been listening in on my patrols all week. This is just the first time I needed help. I just… wish I could keep him around longer, is all._

His throat is tight, so he swallows and doesn’t say anything else, just scratching behind Krypto’s ears the way he likes. It’s not like he didn’t know this was coming. Blüdhaven is one thing, but in Gotham, Batman’s in charge. He’s not about to make an exception to his ‘no metas in Gotham’ rule. Tim shouldn’t have hoped otherwise. He really shouldn’t have expected to be able to hide Krypto for long.

The quiet murmur of conversation ends, and Bruce abruptly rises, taking a step closer to Tim and then standing awkwardly for a moment, watching him pet Krypto. He clears his throat, looking like he wants to say something, then turns and walks away.

“I’ll miss you, boy,” Tim whispers, rubbing at Krypto’s silky ears. He keeps petting him until Batman and Superman show up and take him away, both awkwardly apologetic but firm.

It really sucks.

Nightwing rolls in a few minutes later with a broad grin that melts right off his face as he takes in Tim’s expression. His gaze darts back and forth between Tim and Batman, and he frowns. “What happened?”

Batman doesn’t answer, of course, simply continuing to type away at the Batcomputer. Tim sighs and shrugs, then tries to smile. “Krypto followed me on patrol today. B… sent him home.” His smile wobbles and falls.

“Oh, Tim…” Nightwing peels off his mask and then Dick’s right there, gathering him in his arms. “I’m sorry, bud.” He sounds worried and protective, and there’s an angry edge in his voice that makes Tim frown.

Glancing up, he sees Dick glaring at Batman’s back. Oh. He sniffs. He doesn’t really want to be around if they’re going to fight. Actually, he’d rather they not fight at all. “Can we just go?” Maybe he can head this off. Although the idea of returning to Dick’s apartment without Krypto is painful. The big white dog has slipped right into his life so thoroughly over the past week that it feels like there’s a hole by his side as they walk over to Dick’s motorcycle.

If there are tears on his cheeks as they pull out of the Cave, well, it doesn’t matter. The wind whips them away before they have a chance to fall.

That, and the second they pull out of the secret entrance Krypto shows up, hovering in the air beside the motorcycle, tongue lolling in a huge, doggy smile.

“Krypto!” Tim grins, reaching out to hug the dog. He feels buoyant, like all the sorrow of the past hour is melting away in the space of a breath.

“Oh my god!” Dick quickly brakes, reaching a hand back to stabilize Tim so he doesn’t fall off the bike. “Tim, what—” He turns and catches sight of Tim hugging his dog, and his face breaks into a huge grin. “Wow, okay then. I guess Batman’s law doesn’t apply to superdogs.” He’s chuckling as he settles them on the bike, with a strict admonition that Krypto can fly alongside but Tim has to hold on.

“Krypto’s the _best_ boy,” Tim whispers, deeply satisfied.

“I just wonder what B’s going to do about this next,” Dick mutters under his breath. Krypto barks, looking absurdly determined.

As it happens, Bruce tries a lot of things. There’s another personal visit from Superman—”C’mon, boy, don’t you want to come home?”—which results in Krypto leaving for exactly one hour, then slipping away to come back to Tim as soon as Clark turns his back on him.

Then there’s the special collar Bruce designed to try to keep Krypto out of Gotham. They’re still not sure how the collar ended up on the Penguin instead, but it was pretty hilarious. “Good boy, Krypto,” Tim whispered when he saw what a great job the dog did catching and detaining the rogue. “You get Alfred-biscuits!”

And of course, no one will ever forget the time Bruce exiled Krypto and then tried to take Tim to a Knights game to make up for it. It hadn’t worked, of course—well, obviously he’d enjoyed it, baseball is awesome and the Mets were only leading by _one run_ at the bottom of the ninth—but he’d missed his dog. Even watching Jimmy Queenan step up to bat, two outs for the Knights and bases loaded, had barely moved him. That is, until Jimmy _slammed_ that hit right out of the park, a game-winning home run. That had brought Tim to his feet and cheering.

It was even better when Krypto flew happily up to him a few minutes later, proudly brandishing the game-winning ball in his mouth while Bruce facepalmed in the background. 

Eventually, Bruce gave up on keeping Krypto out of Gotham and settled for lining all the entrances to the Cave with Kryptonite to at least try to keep the dog out of his main base. He was not pleased with the new entrance tunnel that formed when Krypto used his heat vision to drill straight through the limestone bedrock to get to Tim.

“Who’s a good boy?” Tim says in a doting voice, patting the dog and watching as Bruce grumpily inspects the new tunnel, which is still faintly smoking.

“Not him,” Bruce mutters, then turns to eye them in an appraising manner.

Tim ignores him, playing with his dog and then beginning to run through one of the joint training routines he’s been working on for them. He goes through a tumbling sequence, tossing dulled batarangs at the mechanized targets while Krypto flies and darts around him, retrieving batarangs, disarming targets with his heat vision, and generally being awesome. He makes Tim laugh out loud when he dives under his legs and lifts him right into the air to avoid a projectile one of the targets launched. He wraps his arms around his dog and hugs him before dropping down to continue training. “Good boy.”

Krypto may not be officially allowed on patrol, but they’ve got to be prepared if he’s going to keep showing up whenever Robin gets in trouble in the field. They finish up after about forty minutes, and Tim tosses Krypto a few of the homemade treats Alfred started keeping around the Cave and Manor.

He glances over to where Bruce was standing earlier and sees he left at some point, probably to plot more ways to try to get rid of Krypto. Tim’s not particularly worried. After all, Krypto’s proven himself pretty darn resourceful when it comes to evading Batman’s edicts.

Nothing’s quite topped the time Batman sent Krypto away so Robin could focus on an investigation only to turn around and literally trip over a large pile of criminals the dog retrieved with his superspeed. Of course it was the criminals they were investigating. Krypto’s smart like that.

Well, melting a tunnel through the Cave wall just now with his heat vision is definitely one of the dog’s best workarounds yet. The look on B’s face when the Cave wall dissolved before his horrified eyes was priceless. It only got better the next minute when Krypto’s head popped through, panting and happy.

Tim smirks at the recollection. He’s got to grab some stills of that moment to send to Cass. She’ll definitely appreciate it.

* * *

Bruce hesitates, gathering himself, then knocks on the door. He holds the package awkwardly under one arm while he wonders once again if he’s making the right choice. Too bad there isn’t a handy parenting manual for dealing with grieving teenage vigilantes and their stubborn, superpowered pets.

He blinks. When did this become his life?

The rhetorical question slips away a moment later as the door opens, and then Tim is standing before him. Krypto is right at his side, as has become a usual sight ever since the animal attached himself to the boy nearly a month ago.

Despite all of Bruce’s efforts to separate them, the pair seem closer than ever. As he watches Tim smile, eyes soft and happy as he glances down and rubs the dog’s head, his growing certainty that this is a good thing settles.

_It is not often that I admit I am wrong. In this case, though…_

Tim’s been in a bad place, his life over the past year presenting challenges and losses that would bring a well balanced, stable adult to their knees, let alone a boy of sixteen. Bruce had hoped that going to stay with Dick to be nearer to his stepmother would be helpful, a stabilizing influence while Tim recovered from losing his father.

And it was, but… Now that he’s spent more time watching Tim and Krypto together, he has come to realize that a large portion of that healing has come from Tim’s relationship with the animal.

 _And I tried to take him away,_ he thinks ruefully. _Thank goodness he wouldn’t let himself be taken._

Not only is the animal seemingly helping Tim himself, Dana Winters has also shown marked improvement in her recovery ever since his son began taking Krypto along with him to visit her at the hospital. Whether the effect is related to the simple reduction in stress, loneliness, anxiety, and depression which is known to occur when patients spend time with pets, or is perhaps something attributable to Krypto’s unique biology, it makes little difference at this point. If nothing else, the elevated dopamine and endorphins Tim gets from simply playing with the dog make the relationship worth it in Bruce’s opinion.

Whatever the reason, the dog is playing an integral role in Tim’s emotional well-being, and Bruce is not cruel or foolish enough to interfere in that. Well, not now that he’s realized the extent of the situation.

Realizing that his son is now staring at him questioningly, Bruce clears his throat and shoves the package forward. “Here,” he says gruffly. Not for the first time, he curses his inability to articulate his emotions with his children.

Tim blinks, then eyes the package carefully. “Krypto?”

The dog focuses, aiming his x-ray vision at the package, then barks an affirmative and wags his tail. Bruce isn’t sure whether to be amused or appalled at the level of trust in him that implies. “Go ahead and open it, Tim.”

After another long moment of scrutiny, Tim proceeds to open the package. When he sees what’s inside, he just stares at it, face blank.

Bruce forces himself to remain still even as his mind flies through the possibilities—did he get this wrong? He’s not good with emotions and people. Perhaps Tim didn’t want this? Or…

His runaway thought train is cut off by a weight impacting his chest. “Bruce! I—thank you! This is…” Tim’s voice chokes off and he wraps his arms tightly around Bruce, burying his face in his chest. “Thanks.”

At their feet, Krypto barks and wags his tail, dancing around them. He’s somehow already wearing the contents of the package, looking for all the world as though he’s proud of his new uniform and cape. Both are red and black, to match the new Robin uniform Tim’s been wearing lately. It seems… fitting, for the dog’s colors to honor his previous owner, especially considering the remembrance of Superboy is the reason Tim chose those colors in the first place.

Bruce shakes his head slightly at the animal’s enthusiasm and adds the ability to dress himself to his ever-growing mental list of the dog’s capabilities.

He wraps his arms around Tim, wishing he could just consider everything said. Unfortunately, he’s fairly certain there are still things that need to be spoken aloud lest his actions be misunderstood. He’ll do his best, in his own clumsy way, and hope that he doesn’t accidentally damage the precious, vulnerable young person before him any more than he already has over the years. “After watching you and Krypto together over these past few weeks, I can’t in good conscience continue to try to take him away from you.” 

Tim leans back, beaming. “You’re letting me keep him?” He tilts his head, raising an eyebrow. “Well, I mean, you obviously couldn’t actually take him away, but you’re going to stop trying?”

Bruce huffs at the reminder of his numerous failed attempts to remove Krypto from Gotham and Tim’s vicinity. “Yes. I believe he is doing you a great deal of good. In fact, I talked to Doctor Leslie, and we’re planning to have him certified as your emotional support dog.” He clears his throat, hoping he hasn’t overstepped. “That way, you’ll have a suitable cover if you wish to take him to school with you during the day. And with this uniform, he should be able to accompany you in the field—”

“As Birddog,” Tim contributes.

Bruce manages to suppress a wince. None of his children have ever been apt at naming. At least it isn’t Batdog. “Yes,” he says, then hesitates before continuing. “I’m proud of you, Tim.” He may not be able to put everything neatly into words, but the feeling of pride that swells within him at Tim’s resilience, his refusal to close himself off from love after experiencing so much loss, is nearly overwhelming.

_Maybe this is what it’s like to have kids, and see them live to surpass you._

Whatever it is, Bruce will take it. He pulls back after a moment, patting Tim on the shoulder before leaving him to explore and admire all the facets of Krypto’s new uniform. Maybe this will prevent any further unplanned access tunnels being formed in the Batcave.

As he makes his way back down to the Cave to inspect and repurpose said tunnel into an emergency escape route, he’s surprised to realize he’s smiling.

* * *

Krypto sniffs the air, bridling when he catches the scent of distress rising from his person. He activates his x-ray vision and scans the Cave, confused when he fails to detect any threats. The only one here is Batman—the new one, not the grumpy old one who used to play such odd games with Krypto, giving him strange puzzles to work out like that unpleasant collar, or finding a new way into the Cave to get to his person.

No, this is the _new_ Batman, who’s really the person who sneaks him delicious food when his person isn’t looking. Krypto sniffs the air again, puzzled. This is one of his person’s most trusted packmates. He should be safe here.

He trots over to his person’s side and nuzzles his hand. “Why are you upset? Did the gremlin-thing sneak in here and attack you again?” His person pats him on the head and gives him a distracted smile. It’s unfortunate that he is unable to understand Krypto’s speech. Oh well. Krypto can usually manage to get his point across anyway, with a little effort.

He growls, looking around for the tiny monster who lured his person up onto the dinosaur previously and then stabbed him, throwing him down from a great height. Of course, Krypto had intervened, catching his person in midair and destroying the gremlin’s weapon with his heat vision, but the damage was done.

If the gremlin is in here, he can’t smell it. He whines, unable to track down a source for his person’s distress and not liking it.

“You said we’d be okay,” his person whispers, staring at the false Batman. The corners of his mouth pull down as his heart beats rapidly, reflecting his distress. His fists clench at his sides. “My entire life has burnt down! _Again!”_

Not-Batman smells sad, and guilty. Krypto growls, and not-Batman darts a wary glance at him before speaking. “He’s my responsibility now. You’re not my protege, Tim… You’re my equal. My closest ally. You’ll be okay.” The scent of guilt strengthens, and now the distressed scent is coming from both of them. “But him… Tim, you know better than anyone that left on his own, he’s going to kill someone, _again._ You have to understand…” His mouth twists unhappily, but that doesn’t matter to Krypto.

His person’s heart rate is even faster now, and there’s a faint scent of salt, as though he’s holding back tears. “No, I don’t,” he whispers sadly. “This is all I have now.” Krypto nudges his head under his person’s hand to show him that isn’t true.

Then he catches another scent, and growls low in his throat as he turns to face the threat.

It’s the gremlin-thing. “Oh, are _you_ still here?” Gremlin-thing smirks, triumph and pleasure practically oozing from him as he struts over to join not-Batman. He’s… wearing the uniform. The one that Krypto’s person wears, that matches his own. In _his lost person’s_ colors. How _dare_ he?

Krypto whines, shaking his head as though to dislodge the unwelcome sight. It doesn’t work. As the gremlin snipes at his person, causing his scent of distress to spike in an alarming manner, he looks to not-Batman, expecting him to say something to make this right. That’s Batman’s job, after all.

“Don’t be so sensitive, _Drake.”_ Gremlin-thing sneers, clearly reveling in his person’s pain. Krypto resolves to use his super speed and freeze breath to render the gremlin’s tea and meals unpalatable for the next month. It doesn’t seem like enough, not in the face of such an affront. It will have to do, though. The gremlin is cruel and deserving of punishment, but he’s just a pup. Cold tea it is.

Not-Batman finally speaks again. “Damian, shut up, _now.”_

Krypto waits, but there’s nothing else. No promises to return his person’s suit, no comfort offered. His eyes narrow. Not-Batman knows better. Not-Batman is not a pup.

Clearly, he deserves a stronger form of punishment. Krypto inches in front of his person protectively, facing Not-Batman. It’s very satisfying to take aim, and let loose. Everyone reacts in a very pleasing manner—Not-Batman sputters in shock, disbelief, and horror while the gremlin-thing actually leaps backward out of the splash zone, eyes wide and disgust evident.

Krypto’s person’s mouth drops open in sheer astonishment before he takes action, grabbing Krypto by the scruff and physically drawing him away, whispering, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—”

A few minutes later, his person has a hand on his back, half-restraining, half-leaning on him as they hurry away from the Cave. He’s still snickering in disbelief, a welcome difference from the despondency he’d shown before Krypto made his move. “I can’t believe you used heat vision on _Batman.”_ He snorts with laughter, covering his face with his hands. “And you _peed_ on him, oh my god.”

Krypto snorts, shaking his head. He only used the heat vision a _little,_ just enough to burn some of the suit away so he could properly splash not-Batman. He smirks internally, recalling the satisfactory way not-Batman recoiled in horror. “I can’t believe they made that idiot Batman. He didn’t even listen to your well-reasoned theories! And the gremlin-thing he gave your suit to smells strange and hurt you—I do not like him.”

As his person’s chuckles die down and he gets a slightly lost look on his face, Krypto nudges his nose into his hand. His person brightens, and Krypto wags his tail. After a moment, his person’s expression resolves into a look of determination. “C’mon, boy,” he says, patting him on the head. “We’re going to go find Bruce.”

* * *

“Krypto, what are you…?” Tim doesn’t manage to finish the question before Krypto’s huffing at him and using his head to nudge him across the hotel room and into… the bathroom? His eyes widen in surprise as he takes in the steaming, full bathtub and peaceful, dim lighting.

_What the heck?_

He really shouldn’t be surprised anymore when Krypto demonstrates yet another capability, but, well… “How did you even turn on the bath? And light the… Are those _candles?_ Oh wait, heat vision. And—” He blinks, staring, but the open beer resting on the rim of the bathtub doesn’t disappear or morph into a Zesti. He turns to Krypto, brows drawing together in a frown. “I only _just_ turned seventeen! I’m too young to drink.”

Krypto rolls his eyes and waits patiently. After a moment, Tim remembers they’re in Germany and the legal drinking age is sixteen. Oh yeah.

He blinks, fighting back the wave of exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him. It’s been a hell of a long few days—weeks? Whatever, it’s entirely possible he’s lost track of time. And sleep. And other personal care routines, like bathing. He sighs, closing his eyes and raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. Maybe Krypto has a point.

Tim opens his eyes again. “If I take a bath now, will you quit pestering me and let me go out to collect more evidence about Bruce being lost in time?” This is ridiculous. He’s _Red Robin,_ and he’s reduced to bargaining with his overgrown puppy. Still, it’s not like he can sneak out past a dog with super hearing, super vision, and the power of flight.

He knows. He’s already tried tonight, _twice._

The attempts were… unsuccessful. Krypto nods, then looks pointedly at the bath. Tim sighs. “What if those ninjas come back?” Krypto’s been sniffing out traces of ninja at every single one of the hotels and museums they’ve visited, and it doesn’t take a detective to realize their presence is no coincidence. Tim’s actually pretty sure Krypto flew out the window at one point and took a freaking _bazooka_ from one, back at the hotel in Paris earlier.

Krypto bares his teeth in a doggy smirk before jerking his head toward the bath again. Well, okay then. Apparently Krypto has everything in hand. Er, paw. Tim sighs.

_Might as well get this over with._

He strips down quickly and then eases himself into the water. It’s hot, the stinging reminding him of all his minor cuts and abrasions. They’re from rescuing that politician’s daughter in Madrid from her kidnappers—or maybe it was the armed robbery a block from his hotel in Paris? Whatever, it’s all blurring together at this point.

He frowns. Maybe Krypto has a point. He needs to slow down and take care of himself. If he gets into trouble out here, there won’t be anyone left to bring Bruce home. And Krypto definitely deserves better than to lose another friend. Not to mention the dog keeps putting himself in harm’s way to protect Tim, blocking shots and pulling thugs off of him to toss them into trees or nearby dumpsters. Yeah, he’s got to be more careful from here on out. 

“This was a great idea,” Tim mutters, relaxing into the hot bath with a soft sigh. His cuts aren’t stinging anymore and the water feels _heavenly._ He blinks, eyelids getting heavy, then spots the beer again. The amber bottle is beaded with condensation, and it looks invitingly cool.

There’s a soft sound outside the bathroom window, followed by the unmistakable hum of Krypto’s heat vision and a short scream. Ah, ninja. The sounds of battle and mayhem continue unabated as he eyes the bottle again.

 _What can it hurt?_ He reaches out and wraps his hand around the pleasantly cold bottle before bringing it to his lips. It’s bitter, biting and bubbly and cold enough to wake him up a little.

The popping sound of gunfire nearby cuts off almost as soon as it begins, followed by silence and then more screaming and curses. He thinks he hears a faint, distant, “Oy, my soddin’ _nose—!”_ but can’t be sure. Tim tilts his head, weighing his options, then shrugs. Eh, he’s sure Krypto has the situation well in paw. He _loves_ playing fetch with ninjas.

This feels _damn_ good. He takes another long pull, then eases himself back down and lets the water soothe away all his aches.

By the time Krypto trots back in, a takeout bag clutched in his mouth, Tim’s so relaxed he doesn’t even ask about the suspicious sounds or the scent of cordite. “Thanks, buddy,” he says as his stomach growls. “I think I needed this.”

Krypto rolls his eyes and lets his tongue loll out in a doggy grin, as if to say, “No shit, Sherlock.”

Whatever. Tim will take it.

* * *

Tim feels slightly less relaxed when he sees the _pile of actual goddamn ninja assassins_ his dog seems to have collected and left outside the bathroom door, like a cat bringing a half-dead mouse to their owner.

He clutches his towel tighter around his hips as one—the bald woman, who seems to be bleeding from her nose, visibly checks him out and then leers at him. “Krypto?” There’s got to be a reasonable explanation for this.

Krypto wags his tail, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he perches proudly on top of his trophies. The man whose face Krypto’s tail keeps thumping grimaces and bats it away before turning to Tim.

“Timothy Drake. Our Master sent us to assist you on your journey. He is… _interested_ in the results of your quest.” The man lifts a dark brow, his brown eyes and handsome but nondescript face giving nothing away.

_Great. The last thing I need is some tagalong assassins, reporting my every move to Ra’s al Ghul. Really, Krypto?_

Tim shoots a glance at Krypto, who just wags his tail and barks, obviously entirely pleased with this state of affairs. Well, maybe Krypto figured having their enemies close is safer than having them skulk around in the shadows. Also, the trio of assassins actually looks pretty harmless right now, heaped up in a pile and cowed by his dog.

He sighs. This decision is probably going to come back to haunt him at some point, but… “Okay, so what are your names?”

The dark-haired man who seems to be their leader answers. “I am Z. This—” he gestures to indicate the snarling, bald woman with the swollen nose, “—is Pru.” She grins and snaps at his fingers, then grunts and scrabbles at his arm when he rests it on her face in retaliation. “And the quiet man at the bottom of the pile is Owens.”

Tim blinks, eyeing the pile more carefully. The guy at the bottom hasn’t moved once since Tim came out of the bathroom. “Uh, is he okay…?”

“Hey, Boss,” a muffled but affable voice rises from beneath the pileup. “Where to next?”

Well, okay then. Three mysterious assassins, ostensibly assisting him in his search for Bruce but actually serving Ra’s al Ghul’s interests before all else—really, he can probably find a way to use this. Krypto, at least, clearly thinks they’ll come in handy. Then again, Krypto might just want to keep them around because he had so much fun _playing_ with them earlier.

Either way, things are about to get interesting.

As it happens, he quickly gets used to the assassin trio tagging along, offering minor assistance and suggestions as needed. It turns out Z gets almost chatty when he’s relaxing around a campfire. Owens gave him some moleskin for his blisters after one of their grueling hikes to remote archaeological sites to track down more evidence to support Bruce being unstuck in time. Even Pru’s snark seems more playful and less vindictive, although he’s pretty sure she’s still pissed about the whole nose thing. He keeps catching her glaring at Krypto, who just wags his tail happily and trots over to Tim for more pets.

They’re way more tolerable than Ra’s, who keeps commandeering Red Robin’s comms to try to talk to him while they’re traveling the world, searching for clues. It’s actually kind of painful how obvious he is in his attempts to win Tim over to the dark side.

“Detective,” Ra’s murmurs in his ear, voice silky smooth and confident, “I’ve been watching you.”

_Oh my god, why is he so creepy? Really, Ra’s, you couldn’t find a less disturbing line to lead off with?_

Red Robin rolls his eyes and barely manages to refrain from searching for cameras as he takes a picture of the artifact on display in front of him, a prehistoric etching with a very recognizable silhouette. They had to break into another museum to find it, but it’s all going to be worth it. The pieces are coming together to prove Bruce is lost in time. Just a few more items of evidence, and he’ll be able to take it to the Justice League.

In the exposed rafters above him, Pru makes a crude gesture and snickers with Owens until Z glares them both into a semblance of professionalism. They’re meant to be keeping watch for the guards. Admittedly, they’re perfectly aware Krypto could zip in and fly him to safety in an instant, so they probably feel safe to relax a bit.

In his ear, Ra’s continues speaking, seemingly oblivious of his snickering audience. “Whatever it is that happened to Batman, it’s obvious you do not _believe_ it. And while you have all of Bruce Wayne’s money and your own impressive intellect, I can offer you _so much more._ A worldwide network of informants, resources beyond anything you can imagine, and the ability to get anything you need, legal or otherwise.” His voice drops lower, sounding almost intimate as he continues. “The team I have assigned to aid you is only the beginning, the least of what I can offer you if you _join_ with me.”

_Jeez, why does he always have to go and make it weird?_

Red Robin grimaces as Pru starts laughing louder. They’re all _pretty_ sure Ra’s doesn’t actually mean any of what he says to Tim in a sexual way—he’s just got an unfortunate turn of phrase. At least, that’s what Tim tells himself very firmly because the alternative is not something he wants to think about. Still, that doesn’t stop Pru from laughing her ass off every time her boss says something awkward in his incessant quest to win Tim over.

“Yeah, still not interested.” Red Robin shakes his head, wishing he could have the assassin trio’s help without the constant chatter of sly offers and manipulation attempts from Ra’s.

“My detective,” Ra’s begins, voice even silkier than usual, then breaks off.

There’s a sound over the line Red Robin can’t quite make out. He frowns. Was that… a growl?

“I want us to join together—” Ra’s says, only to be cut off by another growl.

Red Robin blinks, twisting his head around to try to track down Birddog and figure out what he’s growling about. “Birddog?”

“Timothy, you belong at my side. Beneath _me,_ you will achieve the euphoric climax of your full potential—” The growl sounds again, even louder. Ra’s tries to keep talking. “I will most tenderly open you to the maximum limits of your mind and body, then fill you with my burgeoning strength and wisdom—” The growl turns into a bark and Ra’s lets out a yelp of sheer astonished outrage. “What is that disgusting _mutt_ doing in here?!”

_Wait, WHAT?_

“Birddog?!” Red Robin yells, clutching at the comm. “Where are you, boy?” Is Birddog in trouble?

Over the comm, he can hear what he’s pretty sure are the sounds of an enraged superdog battling a very startled immortal terrorist. Turning, he meets the assassin trio’s wide eyed gazes. Pru cringes slightly at the sound of rending cloth, followed by a squeak that couldn’t _possibly_ have come out of Ra’s al Ghul. The unmistakable buzz of Birddog’s heat vision follows.

“You—why, you unspeakable—!” Ra’s is panting, clearly losing the fight. “What are you—no, don’t you _dare!”_ Birddog growls again, his heat vision activating until—

Ra’s huffs. _“Fine,_ you insufferable mutt. Your paltry threat is noted. While my genitalia would, in theory, regenerate upon immersing myself in the Lazarus Pit, I have no desire to experience having them burned off by your infernal heat vision, nor test that theory and find it to be mistaken.” Ra’s pauses, clearing his throat. “You have won this round. I will refrain from contacting the Detective again, until such time as he comes to me himself. And he _will,_ of that I am certain.”

_Oh my god, go Krytpo. Still, wow. Ra’s-genitals. Gross._

In the background, Z looks gobsmacked, Owens is surreptitiously covering his own crotch protectively with both hands, and Pru is laughing so hard she almost falls off the rafter. Z catches her by the back of her jacket, rolling his eyes.

“Uh, okay then,” Red Robin, blinking rapidly. “That… just… happened.” He turns to the assassin trio again as Birddog zooms in the window they jimmied earlier, landing at Red Robin’s side. He wags his tail and stares up at Red Robin expectantly, tongue lolling out in a happy grin. His fur is smoking slightly and there’s a bit of what looks suspiciously like expensively dyed and embroidered linen caught in his teeth.

He’s such a good boy. “Who’s a good boy?” Red Robin croons, giving him all the pets. “You are! Birddog’s a good boy!”

Above him, the assassin trio is snickering again. Whatever, they’re just jealous they don’t have a superdog.

Well, time to get going and track down the last of the clues they need. Red Robin narrows his eyes, considering what’s left. If he can find what he suspects might be at the site in the Arabian Desert, he just might actually have what it takes to prove his theory.

“Where to now, Boss?” Owens is still smiling faintly, regarding Birddog fondly before training his expectant gaze on Red Robin.

Mind made up, Red Robin grins. “The Arabian Desert.”

* * *

Z eases the truck to a stop. “This is the place?”

Birddog barks happily before taking off. Red Robin shrugs, unpacking himself from the backseat. “Unless I mixed up latitude and longitude.”

Pru snaps his way, looking like she’s seriously considering the merits of attacking him if he actually screwed things up that badly. Or maybe she’s just teasing back—he’s never quite sure when it comes to Pru. 

Red Robin looks back flatly, then turns back around as Birddog barks. “That’s my cue,” he says before shutting the door and crossing over to the rock formation rising high above the desert floor.

Birddog’s already there, waiting impatiently—scratching the ground, pacing back and forth—by what looks like a large crack in the towering sandstone wall.

Red Robin approaches, then stops before the threshold of what he can now see is a cave. “Whoa. You think this is it, boy?” His hands are tingling and his ears are buzzing slightly with anticipation.

Birddog barks, clearly excited. Red Robin scratches his ears. “Wait here, okay, buddy?” The dog whines, clearly unhappy with that plan. Red Robin gives him a wobbly smile. “Watch my back for me?” Birddog huffs, but bows his head and pulls away.

Red Robin drops his hand, takes a deep breath, and steps into the gloom. He lights a flare, raising it high as his gaze darts over the interior of the small, irregularly shaped cavern. The light dances on the walls, illuminating what he immediately recognizes as proof positive.

Bruce isn’t dead. He’s lost… and it all begins here.

He stares at the petroglyphs for another long moment, feelings of triumph and hope surging through him. Having Birddog’s support has been amazing, but _this…_

Vindication tastes so sweet.

Finally, he tears himself away from the sight. Turning, he makes his way back to the mouth of the cave and looks down at the assassin trio, who are all waiting for him by the jeep.

Pru rolls her eyes. “Can we go now?”

Z crosses his arms and regards him warmly. “And how do you feel, Tim Drake?” He must see Red Robin’s happiness and relief. Stupid assassins and their incredible ability to read people.

Red Robin can’t help the little smile that passes over his face, a sense of accomplishment and hope still washing through him. They’re all distracted, sharing his moment of triumph and completion.

That’s probably why no one notices the sword about to impale Z until it’s too late.

Well, almost no one.

“Aaaaaargh!” The attacker, a viciously sneering cowled man clad in black, with a red hourglass symbol on his chest, screams in horror as Birddog growls and _bites him on the butt._ The man’s wielding wicked looking blades in each hand, but they sure don’t help him much when his opponent is an angry dog with superspeed, heat vision, and the power of flight. “Get him off get him off get him _off!”_

_Well, that was anticlimactic._

Red Robin snickers as Z cautiously approaches and renders the unknown attacker unconscious, then begins to bind him quickly and efficiently. “It seems, Tim Drake, that here is where we must part ways for the time being. I recognize this man. He is the Widower, a member of the Council of Spiders. If they are hunting League assassins, then there is a grave threat to our Master and we must return to him.”

Red Robin blinks. He hadn’t expected to feel a twinge at saying goodbye to the assassin trio, but there it is. “Oh. Uh, okay.” He frowns. “I need to get this evidence to the right people. Can you handle it, or will you need help?” It’s not like he _wants_ to help the League of Assassins, but Z, Pru, and Owens are friends, of sorts.

Owens nods. “We got this, Boss.”

Z nods, giving him a friendly shoulder clasp. “If you are in need of our help again, merely say the word. Anything which is not a betrayal of our Master is yours. We have saved each other’s lives far too many times to count each other as enemies again.” With that startling pronouncement, he turns and strides away.

Pru looks conflicted as she and Owens drag the bound assassin over to a nearby open expanse to await pickup. Throwing a glance back at him, she smirks. “Oy, keep in touch, brat!” She looks at Birddog. “Take care of this idiot for us, yeah?”

Birddog barks, the traitor.

Red Robin laughs, watching them for a long moment as their figures dwindle into the distance before vanishing into the night. When he can’t see them anymore, he turns back to the jeep. He’s got a long ride ahead of him, and a longer journey back to Gotham once he drops off the evidence with the Justice League.

Birddog bumps gently against his legs as he walks, a tangible reminder that even though his companions are gone for now, he’s not alone. Red Robin smiles, tangling his fingers in his dog’s soft fur, and lifts his face to enjoy the warm desert breeze.

He’s ready to go home.

* * *

“Ex boyfriend, you totally suck for getting a dog, disappearing off the face of the earth to battle ninja assassins, and changing your outfit to include the condom cowl without me. Haven’t I told you multiple times how much cowl hair sucks? Why would you even go there?”

Red Robin flops onto the rooftop, chest heaving from their session of rooftop tag. Ow. Having Birddog with him only made things about even when he was up against Team (Former and Present) Batgirls. He gives himself five minutes of wishing he could melt into the floor before reluctantly heaving himself up and starting his cooldown stretches.

Batgirl is excitedly hugging Birddog. Red Robin would’ve been concerned that Batgirl would accidentally strangle Birddog if the dog wasn’t a meta, but Birddog is loving the attention, his tail wagging cheerfully.

Black Bat, off to the side, nods in agreement as if to say, how could he have kept his dog ownership from them? Her eyes narrow as Red Robin stretches carefully, trying not to aggravate his minor injuries. No doubt she can tell where he’s been injured, but Red Robin’s sheepish smile keeps her from asking him about them.

He has a sneaking suspicion that she’s tallying up his injuries so she can track down everyone who’s ever hurt him later and make them regret it. Cass can be scary sometimes. He breaks eye contact with her with difficulty, turning back to the bubbly blonde who is now trying to convince Birddog to do tricks.

“Steph, I don’t know how to break this to you but, you were dead.”

“So? Invest in an ouija board. I bet if Bruce had one, he would’ve guilt-ouija-texted Jason until he became undead, and then swooped into graveyard to demand why he isn't texting back. Tada. Zombie Jason. Even better, I know what I’m getting everybody for Christmas now!”

She’ll probably actually do it, too. She has a history of buying strange things just to get the account frozen. The next step will be the company calling Bruce about identity theft and Bruce calling Steph in to explain the reasoning behind her crazy purchases. Red Robin thinks the best one so far was probably forty-seven tanks of helium for Bruce’s birthday, which she said was to get Bruce to ‘lighten up.’ After that debacle, matching ouija boards for the family is totally doable.

Meanwhile, Black Bat is looking at the three of them speculatively. “Spa day,” she declares.

Red Robin can’t help but smile. He is invariably going to be charged with buying the supplies, which means a two hour video chat while the girls buy snacks and bicker over what movies to play in the background. This time is going to include a doggy makeover too, if the way that Batgirl has taken to Birddog is any indication.

“Sounds good to me,” he says agreeably. Might as well not fight it when he knows it’s going to happen, anyway. Besides, he’s looking forward to spending time with his sister and friend. It’s been a hell of a year for all of them, and they definitely deserve the down time.

Their comms break into the moment of peace, Oracle’s voice sounding regretful but determined. “Sorry to cut this short, kids, but I’m going to need Batgirl and Blackbat over on the east side. One of the targets we’ve been following for the Brewbaker case is on the move.”

Batgirl nods and gives Red Robin a grin and a wave as she flips off the rooftop, Nightwing-style. “On our way, Oracle! Seeya at the Spa Day, ex-boyfriend!”

Blackbat lingers a moment longer, leaning in to brush her shoulder against his in a silent communion. Red Robin leans into her with a smile. He’s missed his sister. “Keep him safe,” she instructs Birddog, who gives her a bark and a very serious nod.

Adorable.

He’s still smiling, staring at the rooftops where the others just disappeared into the Gotham night when he senses something approaching from above. Bracing himself, he’s completely taken by surprise when instead of being attacked, he finds himself facing someone he hasn’t seen in way too long. Someone whose loss still hurts, even though he heard through the grapevine he was back, miraculously restored to life in a convoluted series of events involving time travel, of all things.

_Kon._

“Your face is going to break if you keep that up,” an achingly familiar, very _welcome_ voice says from above. Birddog is going crazy, flying circles around them and letting out excited little yips and whines and barks.

Kon’s _gorgeous,_ so handsome and broad in his worn blue jeans and signature tight black shirt with the red S-shield. Tim pushes down the thought that he has three just like it, and still sleeps in them some nights. That’s an insignificant detail that no one needs to know. Kon’s bright blue eyes sparkle at him even in the moonlight, his black hair and grin just like Tim remembers.

_God, he’s so beautiful. I wouldn’t change anything about this moment. It’s perfect._

Then Kon opens his big mouth again to finish his thought, “...and honestly, your face wasn’t that great to begin with.”

Red Robin snorts. “Oh my god, you’re _such_ an asshole,” he complains, still not able to wipe what’s probably an incredibly dopey smile off his face.

Kon drifts down to land beside him, tall and strong and so _alive_ it makes Red Robin want to cry in the best way. It’s all he can do to hold back from throwing himself into those big, strong arms to bury his face in Kon’s chest. “Why so happy?” Kon cocks his head, eyeing Red Robin carefully. “Let me guess… sale on leather?”

Kon’s such a dork. Why did he forget what a dork his best friend was?

“You’re going to get matching chaps, is that it? Tim?” Kon’s starting to actually look mildly concerned now at Red Robin’s continued silence. He waves a hand slowly in front of his face. “Hello? Dude, you’re starting to creep me out now. Will you just say—”

And that’s the moment Red Robin loses it.

He launches himself forward, wrapping his arms _tight_ around those strong shoulders, that wonderful man he thought he lost. He presses his head to Kon’s shoulder and holds back a sob as he imagines he can feel his strong, steady heartbeat through the points where they’re pressed together.

 _“—something?!”_ Kon finishes in an awkward, startled bleat. He slowly lowers his arms to settle hesitantly around Red Robin.

Red Robin doesn’t say anything, his throat too choked with emotion to speak as Kon’s familiar, clean scent surrounds him.

_Oh, god._

“Tim? Buddy?” Kon’s starting to sound worried now. “Uh, if you’re trying to be all dark and grim now, this isn’t going to help.”

Birddog adds a soft whine as he presses himself against their legs, reminding Red Robin that this is the first time the dog has seen Kon since his resurrection, too. Red Robin wants to reassure Krypto, pet him and tell him he’s a good boy, but the lump in his throat is growing as he realizes that of course, Krypto will go home with Kon now. His real owner. Tim’s just a substitute, like always.

His voice is hoarse when he finally pulls back and rests his hands on Kon’s shoulder, whispering, “You’re alive.” He gazes at Kon, taking in his mercifully intact, whole, and healthy body, and it doesn’t matter that Kon will never care about him the same way he cares about Kon, or that Krypto will go back with him and just come visit once in a while.

This is _Kon,_ his best friend, and even if he’ll never love Tim the way Tim loves him, he _does_ care about him as a friend. It shows in the concern on his handsome face, and the way his hands have seemingly unconsciously come to rest on his arms as though to steady him.

Red Robin clears his throat. “You were… You were _dead.”_ He ignores the way his voice chokes and breaks on the word. “Bart was dead.” Another friend who came back. Bart, Kon, Bruce, Steph—so many of the people he’d thought lost forever are back in his life now, and he’s not going to waste a moment of this time with any of them. “You don’t know what that was like… and now you’re _back.”_

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you. I never would’ve left if I had a choice.” Kon’s strong hands slide up to his shoulders and gently squeeze. “And hey, I came back, right? That has to count for something.”

Red Robin’s vision goes blurry and he sniffs loudly, trying to suppress the dopey smile he’s pretty sure is still on his face. He reaches up to pull the cowl off, feeling his hair spring free and sighing as the warm breeze cools his sweaty skin. “Yeah, man, it really does. It’s just… I was in kind of a bad place for a while there, you know?”

Kon draws him close again, so close he can feel the taller man’s warm breath whuff against the side of his neck where Kon drops his head for a moment with a sigh. “I know, dude. Cassie, and Nightwing… They said some stuff. Told me how bad things got for you.” He straightens, a grin lighting his face again as his gaze drops to Krypto. “They also told me Krypto came and found you, and helped you out a lot back then, and while you were looking for Bruce.”

Kon turns to Krypto, reaching one hand out to rub at his ears while grinning. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Such a good boy for following my last order so well. You found Tim and took care of him for me. Thanks, buddy. You did good.”

Smiling, Tim leans his head into Kon, relishing the closeness and comfort of the hug. “Huh, so that’s why he showed up and started following me around. He really is a good boy. The _best_ boy. Having him around really helped me. Now… I’m in a good place.” He smiles, feeling brighter and lighter than he has since… well, maybe since he lost Kon.

Then he pauses, brows drawing together slightly in puzzlement. “Kon,” he says slowly, “what exactly were your last orders to Krypto?” It doesn’t really make sense that he’d send his dog to Tim. If he wanted him to take care of the other Titans, he would’ve sent him to look after _all_ of them, not Tim alone. And he has plenty of other people he cares about, like Martha Kent. He looks expectantly at Kon, waiting for an explanation.

He’s definitely not expecting the vivid blush that suffuses Kon’s cheeks as he starts blustering. “Well, I thought—you’re always getting involved in things that are—I figured you’d need—” He stops, then sighs, burying his heated face in Tim’s neck. “The truth is, I was scared, and my last thought was getting Krypto somewhere safe, and taking care of you. I knew you’d look after each other when I was…”

Kon swallows, sounding a little shaky when he continues talking. He straightens, looking Tim right in the eye as he says, “I told him, ‘Go find Tim. He’s your person now. Defend him like you would me, because I love him.’ I just wanted to know I was leaving you in good paws.” His gaze drops, his hands clenching and then releasing as he slowly lowers his arms, stepping back from Tim with visible effort. “Sorry if that makes things weird.”

Tim blinks. “Do you mean love like platonic, we’re bros love, or…?” There’s no way. It’s just not possible that Kon might actually—

Kon scowls, eyes snapping. “Seriously? Fine, I’ll say it. Tim, I’ve been in love with you for years. I— _mmph!”_ His eyes widen in shock as Tim lifts up on his tiptoes to press an exuberant kiss right on his gorgeous lips.

_Yes!_

Kon’s eyes close as his hands move up to tenderly cup Tim’s face, thumbs rubbing lightly over his cheeks. Tim closes his eyes, too, the better to focus on all the wonderful sensations exploding inside of him _—_ Kon loves him _back,_ they can actually be together in the way he’s never really allowed himself to _imagine—_

That’s probably why neither of them sees it coming when Krypto, flying in giddy circles around them and curious about all the fun they seem to be having in this interesting new game they’ve devised, decides to join in. He dives in to slobber all over the sides of their faces, trying to get at their lips. They pull apart, sputtering and wiping at their faces.

_Oh my god, gross! Dog drool!_

“Not good, buddy, not good,” Kon says with a grimace, lifting up the bottom of his shirt to wipe off his face and then scrub at Tim’s. “Krypto, no licking faces that are kissing! Here, you can lick my hand.” Krypto happily settles down to enthusiastically licking Kon’s hand, and Kon looks up at Tim with an expectant grin. Tim is too distracted to help with any of that because he’s staring at Kon’s sculpted abs where they’re exposed by the shirt.

“Hngh,” he manages after a moment. When he finally tears his gaze away, Kon’s smirking at him, letting him look his fill. He blushes to the tips of his ears. “Shut up! You’re a good looking guy, okay? Attraction is totally natural. You’re hot and I’m in love with you.” Somehow, he finds a way to blush even harder after his sappy confession.

It’s worth it, though, because Kon’s expression softens into something tender and loving and fiercely protective. “Come here so we can try that first kiss again.”

That sounds like a damn fine plan. Tim grins, and steps into Kon’s waiting arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Between brainstorming, writing, and doing the beta for this story, this work contains contributions from ayzengima, azemex, nanimok, njw, rider_of_spades, themandylion, salazarastark, silver_snow_77, strawberryjei, and vellaphoria. Thanks, everyone, for all your ideas and effort in putting together this gift for Boojum!
> 
> [Capes & Coffee Tim Drake discord server](https://discord.gg/bGhpCDn)  
> *  
> Writers: Artificiallifecreator, njw, Strawberryjei  
> Betas: Rider_Of_Spades, Salazarastark, Vellaphoria


End file.
